


Wish You Were Here - Part II

by grumblesandmumbles



Series: The "Wish You Were Here" Universe [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 1970s, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coming of Age, Drinking to Cope, Drug Use, Gen, Inspired by Music, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), POV Alternating, POV Ian, POV Mickey, Pining, Shameless Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:10:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5170133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblesandmumbles/pseuds/grumblesandmumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey dealt with many tumultuous events but ended the first part of this story together and in a good place. Part II picks up about a year and a half after they have reunited. But life is never simple for these two, and they face a new hosts of challenges. How will they persevere through all of the changes that the 1970s have in store for them?</p>
<p>Companion playlist for this part is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_a46WJ1viA&list=PL1zYTSq9eYQV7D93nHI-GSAcxY60igA52">here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish You Were Here - Part II

**1972**

 

**DECEMBER**

 

_Mickey – Simon & Garfunkel – Bridge Over Troubled Water_

 

Mickey woke to frantic banging on the front door of the apartment. He peeked over at Ian who was snoring soundly and rolled out of bed, stumbling to the front door and looking through the peephole. He saw their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Rabinowitz, eyes flicking over the door waiting for someone to answer. He unlatched the chain and the deadbolt and opened it to greet her.

His voice was heavy with sleepiness. “Mrs. Rabinowitz, what time is it? Are you alright?”

She looked at him, clearly distressed. “Oh Mickey! There’s a girl on the party line, Mandy? She says she’s your sister. She’s very upset. I heard the phone ringing from my apartment and grabbed it, figured I better come get you.”

As soon as he heard his sister’s name, Mickey was wide awake. As soon as Mrs. Rabinowitz said she was upset, he was rushing down the hall to the communal telephone and the rest of his neighbor’s words were being spoken to the back of his head. She had left the phone hanging down near the floor and Mickey grabbed the cord to pull it up and place it to his ear.

“Mandy? Hey, it’s me. What’s wrong?”

She whispered, barely able to speak but forcing the words out. “It’s Dad. He’s gone, Mick. He's _dead_.”

Mickey heard her choke back a strangled cry through the phone. He leaned back against the wall, his knees buckling as he slid down to the floor.

_It's over. It's finally fuckin' over_. He had the phone cord wound around his hand and the phone pressed tightly to his ear. They stayed like that, she telling Mickey what happened, he listening in disbelief, until he realized that Ian was beside him. He looked up and blinked at Ian, who was staring at Mickey with concern as he squatted down, unwrapping the cord from Mickey’s hand and gently taking the phone away to find out who was on the other end. As Ian spoke with Mandy, Mickey looked down the hall and saw Mrs. Rabinowitz huddled in the apartment doorway with Carly and Claire.

He buried his face in his hands. _This can’t be happening_. He stayed that way until he felt Ian tap gently on his shoulder. When Mickey looked up, Ian had his hand stretched out towards him and Mickey took it. Ian helped him up from the floor and walked slowly with him towards the apartment. Mickey let Ian guide him down the hall, pausing long enough to let the women move out of the doorway to let them back in. They looked at him, their gazes equal parts confused and sympathetic. They didn’t know yet what was going on, but they knew a middle of the night phone call never warranted anything good. He stared back at the women blankly as Ian steered him past them and into their room.

Ian left him in there while he went to let the girls know what was happening. Mickey heard them all murmuring in the living room and he laid back on the bed. He couldn’t even believe it; he was in complete shock. Mickey didn’t feel sad, which wasn’t a surprise. He hadn’t spoken to his father since before he had left Chicago, and had barely even interacted with him since his return from the Army. Mickey had no affection or concern for Terry. But he was worried about Mandy. Despite everything Terry had put his kids through, she never quite managed to leave him in her past like Mickey had.

Mickey got up and looked in their closet until he found a duffel bag buried in the bottom. He started opening and closing drawers, pulling out socks and underwear, shirts and pants. He haphazardly shoved them in the bag while he moved through the room. As he was trying to choose between one of the two dress outfits he had hanging up, he heard Ian’s voice behind him.

“Mick, what are you doing?”

He held up his Army uniform as one of his dress options, examining it. “Packing. I have to get home for Mandy.”

Ian approached him slowly, then gently took the uniform out of his hands and hung it back up. “Mick, it’s the middle of the night. There won’t be any buses leaving right now. C’mon, let’s go to bed. We’ll get up first thing in the morning and get on the move.”

Mickey let Ian lead him back to bed. He felt Ian’s comforting warmth press against him from behind, rubbing his arm and nosing his hair. He grabbed Ian’s hand and pulled his arm so that it was wrapped around his own waist. Ian pulled him impossibly close and they laid there together, awake but not speaking. Slowly, Mickey felt himself quiet down and sink further into the bed towards sleep. He did manage to doze on and off, but not well at all.

\----------

In the morning, Ian made them breakfast and called Port Authority for bus schedules while Mickey packed for both of them. They gathered their things and made their way uptown with time to spare before their bus left. Mickey was restless and fidgeted through much of the beginning of the trip, but by the time the bus was somewhere in Pennsylvania, he had slumped over against Ian’s arm and fallen asleep. When he awoke in Ohio, Ian was asleep too, leaning against the window with Mickey pressed close against him.

When the bus pulled in at the next rest stop,  Mickey shook Ian awake gently so they could use the bathroom and get something to eat. They shared a cigarette, huddled close to the bus to avoid the wind. It was a brisk, cold day, and they were soon missing the heat of the bus. They handled their business in short measure and moved back to their seats to bundle up and get warm as soon as possible.

The closer they got to Chicago, the more Mickey felt his anxiety spiking. Just being there, surrounded by some of his most painful memories, filled Mickey with dread. This new dread compounded on top of the stress he already had from having to deal with his father’s funeral and having to see his family. He bit at his lip furiously and by the time they made it to the bus depot, it was practically raw. They gathered their things and exited the bus, rushing out into the cold and hurrying to find a cab. Normally they wouldn’t splurge on such an expense, but it was just too cold to sit outside and wait for the El.

When they finally reached the Milkovich house, it took all of Mickey’s resolve to ascend the stairs and enter the front door. Mandy and all of his brothers were inside and he and Ian greeted everyone. No one had any idea about their relationship, and he preferred to keep it that way. They unbundled from their jackets and scarves and settled in. Mandy brought them each a beer and the three of them sat at the dining table together. Mickey's brothers were all huddled in the living room, involved in their own conversations.

“So what the fuck happened exactly?” Mickey asked her. Their conversation from the previous night was such a blur that he was almost wondering if he had misunderstood her when she told him.

Mandy pushed a newspaper towards him and said, “Read it for yourself. They explain it better than I ever could.”

Terry had been on a flight bound for Duluth, Minnesota. The plane had been cleared for takeoff but was struck by another plane while it was still on the ground, killing 10 passengers. Mickey read and reread the article, trying to make sense of it all.

Mickey couldn’t recall his father ever flying, or even hearing about Terry ever flying. “Why the hell was he going to Minnesota?”

Iggy wandered over, saying, “He was trying to expand business. He was going out there to meet with a contact he had.”

It figured that business would get him on an airplane. It was about the only thing that motivated Terry. The siblings all gathered in the living room to discuss what to do regarding funeral arrangements and after some debate, agreed that a small, private and very brief memorial service would be more than enough. None of them were particularly inclined to do much beyond the bare minimum. Joey and Jamie had been the closest to Terry, and when they offered to handle the arrangements no one fought them.

Mickey was feeling suffocated being in such close quarters with his family. When they were distracted, he took the opportunity to slip outside so he could smoke a cigarette and get a few minutes of peace and quiet. He was puffing away and staring out at the empty street when he heard the door open and close softly behind him. Mickey felt a gentle hand at the small of his back and he didn’t even need to look to know who it was. He held out his hand to offer Ian his cigarette and Ian took it, puffing on it a few times before handing it back and speaking.

“Come spend the night with me and my family.”

Mickey nodded slowly, relieved that he didn’t have to explain how he felt being home, how Ian just knew. He puffed at the cigarette one last time before he flicked the butt towards the street.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

They went inside and Mickey noticed that his brothers had dissipated. The only person in sight was Mandy, who was making a futile attempt to straighten up the house in their wake. She was struggling with a stack of dirty dishes, and Mickey went over and grabbed a handful off the top before they clattered onto the floor. He followed her into the kitchen and placed them down in the sink.

Mickey watched his sister with a careful eye as she started scrubbing viciously at the dirty plates. She looked how he felt; exhausted down to her bones, and not just in a tired way. For possibly the first time, Mickey found himself worried about her.

“You okay?”

Mandy tried to put a happy lilt into her voice but failed miserably. “Sure. I’m hanging in.”

“Are you good if I stay over with Ian’s family?”

She nodded encouragingly. “Of course. I know you don’t want to stay here. It’s fine.”

Mickey watched Mandy for a few more seconds before deciding to take her at her word. He didn’t really know how to talk to his sister, and the realization made him sad. She stopped fussing with the dishes for a moment and rested her hands on the counter. He awkwardly reached over and patted one a few times before he retreated and left her to her task.

The last thing he saw after he and Ian had gathered their things from his old room was Mandy still standing at the sink, staring vacantly at the wall as she scrubbed mindlessly at another plate. Mickey couldn’t shake the image for the rest of the night.

\----------

The somber mood of the Milkovich house was pushed temporarily from their minds when Ian and Mickey walked through the front door of the Gallagher home. Though they had visited a couple of times since Mickey moved to New York to be with Ian, the difference between this house and his own never ceased to amaze him. It was always a cacophony of happy noise; laughter, yelling, feet stomping on stairs and doors opening and closing. It was nice enough, but Mickey found it exhausting.

They entered the house and Ian was promptly swept up by his sisters and Liam. Lip was still at college, not yet done with his finals, and Carl was still at work stocking shelves at the grocery store. The girls greeted Mickey and then led Ian into the kitchen, Mickey trailing behind. They had quite a spread of food out for them.

"Fi, this is too much," Ian protested with a grin.

She waved him off. "Not for you guys! Besides, I got a year end raise at work, so that's cause to go a little overboard!"

The boys took their things upstairs and left them in Frank's old room as instructed by Fiona. They returned and were immediately led to the dining room table, plates of food being placed in front of them. Ian maintained the conversation while Mickey silently shuffled his food around his plate. He was glad that they seemed willing enough to leave him alone for the moment. When everybody was finishing up and he finally had enough, Mickey excused himself and went upstairs for some solitude.

He stripped down to his boxers and undershirt and pulled some pajama pants out of his bag, stepping into them. When he turned around, Liam was at the doorway staring at him.

"I'm sorry about your dad," he said to Mickey solemnly.

Mickey tried to give him a smile but it was more of a grimace. "Thanks, kiddo."

Liam crossed the room and hugged Mickey around the hips. Mickey was at a loss. He didn’t know how to react. He patted gently at Liam's shoulders until the boy let him go and left the room. Mickey looked up to see Ian in the doorway, a smile on his face. Mickey sat down on the edge of the bed and Ian came in, proceeding to change his clothes as Mickey had.

"Liam likes you," he observed after a minute.

Mickey shrugged it off. "He barely knows me."

Ian paused and turned to stroke Mickey's hair, cupping the back of his head affectionately. "He's a good judge of character."

Mickey didn't respond, opting instead to pull the blanket back on the bed and slide in. He shuffled towards the wall and soon Ian was moving in beside him.

\----------

The night before the funeral, Mickey walked to the closest liquor store and bought a large bottle of whiskey. He didn't drink like he used to, but he figured for an occasion such as this, he'd earned it.

The truth was that Mickey didn't know how he could get through this sober. He brought the bottle back to the Gallagher house where Ian and Sully helped him make a dent in it, but they quit before it got to be too much for them. Sully slumped over on the couch and Ian managed to drag Mickey upstairs to bed, though Mickey brought the bottle with him and kept working at it long after Ian started snoring.

When he woke up in the morning, Mickey was still drunk. He fumbled around as he tried to get himself cleaned up and dressed for the service. Ian didn't look pleased but he kept silent as he helped Mickey with buttons and zippers. Sully wasn't where they left him the night before, and they assumed he went home to get ready. They were correct - when it was time to head to the funeral, Sully returned to pick them up with his car.

The three of them drove to the funeral home in silence. When they arrived, they were greeted by Mickey's siblings. They were told to come ahead of everyone else for a few private moments. Mickey approached Mandy and his brothers, who were hovering outside waiting for him.

Mickey glanced back at Ian and Sully before following his siblings inside the room. A part of him wanted to cast aside his apprehension and just ask Ian to come with him, but he knew he needed to do this on his own. He trailed behind everyone, letting them have their moments first.

The casket had been closed and when it was his turn, Mickey got the attention of the funeral director.

"Can you open this?"

He could see the hesitation in the man's eyes. "Sir, given the nature of what happened, I wouldn't recommend that. We could only do so much."

That wouldn't do. _I need to see it. I need to know it's real_. "Just open it."

The director looked at him for a moment before stepping forward, opening the top half and stepping aside. Mickey approached hesitantly. He stared at his father, taking in the damage and the clear attempts by the funeral home to cover it. He noticed their skill but knew only so much could have been done. As he stood there, Mickey thought about all the ways Terry had almost ruined his life, and the rage that he had been swallowing down for years came bubbling to the surface.

“Thought you were gonna make me a man, huh Dad? But you couldn’t beat all the queer outta me, could ya Dad? Makin' me join up and go to Vietnam, to ‘make a man out of me,’ as you said. But you know what? I’m more of a man than you’ll ever be. I’m not here beatin’ on women and kids, you prick!”

Mickey’s voice rose louder as he talked and he could feel his skin flushed hot with anger. He turned and looked at his siblings, who were standing off to one side watching him. It was now or never.

“I just want _everybody_ to know I’m fuckin’ gay. Big old ‘mo. I just thought everybody should know that.”

It was then that everything went to hell. Joey and Jamie lunged forward towards Mickey who started swinging wildly at them with no precision. Ian and Sully ran into the room to separate everyone while Colin, Iggy and Mandy watched it all play out in stunned shock. Mickey was incensed, spewing profanities and still throwing punches when Ian grabbed him around the waist and pulled him away, first outside of the room and then all the way out to the parking lot of the funeral home.

Mickey was panting, rage and exertion mingling and wearing away at him. When Ian got him outside, the shock of the cold helped to snap him out of his frenzy enough for Ian to finally talk to him. He grabbed Mickey’s face gently, one hand on each side, and made Mickey look at him.

“Mick, calm down, it’s alright. He’s gone, he can’t do shit now.”

“He almost wrecked everything.” Mickey replied brokenly.

Ian gently smoothed his thumbs over Mickey’s cheeks in what he hoped was a relaxing gesture. “But he didn’t. You’re here. _We’re_ here. Fuck Terry.”

It seemed to do the trick. “Let’s get the fuck outta here, I got no respects to pay that asshole.”

\----------

“I should have known.”

Mickey looked at Mandy curiously. The two of them had left the funeral with Ian and Sully and returned to the Gallagher house. “Why would you? All I ever did was try to hide it.”

She shrugged, picking at the food on the plate Ian had made for her. “I don’t know... I mean you and Ian always hanging out, asking about each other, reconnecting and you picking up and moving to New York out of the blue. I mean, I knew about Ian. I can’t believe I didn’t wonder about you sooner.”

There was nothing to say after that. They sat in silence together, but it was an easy quiet. Having his secret out in the open like that was a comfort to Mickey that he hadn’t expected. It didn’t feel like there was a wedge in place between him and the truth anymore, and that translated to a feeling of openness towards Mandy too.

There was a honk outside and Mandy got up to look out the front window. “They’re back.”

Mickey nodded and stood, retrieving his and Ian’s bags from the bottom of the stairs. Once they were done with the funeral, Mickey didn’t want to waste any time in going back to New York. Chicago wasn’t home anymore, and he didn't care to dwell on it or be there any longer than necessary. As soon as he found out there was an afternoon bus they could take, he was set on leaving. Ian saw no point in arguing. Sully and Ian had ran out to do a few errands, giving Mickey and Mandy some much-needed quality time alone. They hadn’t really talked that much, it wasn’t their style, but she had made it clear that she supported him, and he was thankful.

He and Mandy bundled up and went outside, Mickey putting the bags in the trunk and the two of them climbing into Sully’s backseat. They moved slowly through traffic until they reached the bus station and Sully found a spot so they could follow them inside. Ian bought the tickets and they lingered and made small talk until they heard an announcement that their bus was boarding.

Mickey and Mandy hugged each other tightly before she let go of her brother to wrap Ian up. Mickey pulled Sully off to the side and cocked his head towards his sister. “Take care of her for me.”

Sully pulled him in for a hug and clapped him on the back. “You know I will, brother.”

Ian and Mickey made their way through the station, glancing back and waving goodbye one last time. When their bus had finally made it out of city limits, Mickey breathed easier for the first time in days. He had never imagined that he would own his story, the idea so daunting and unrealistic. But here he was.

Mickey glanced over at Ian, who was staring off into the distance out the window. He rested his hand on Ian’s thigh and traced affectionate swirls there. Ian looked over at him and Mickey met his gaze, a smile pulling the corner of his mouth gently. He leaned his head back on the seat and kept his eyes fixed on Ian, marveling at him. Happy that things with them were stable, and good, and they were there.

Together.

 

**1973**

 

**APRIL**

 

_Ian – The Spinners - Could It Be I’m Falling In Love_

Ian felt fuckin’ great.

The winter had been long, but spring had arrived and Ian was ready for it. Terry’s death had been the best thing for his and Mickey’s relationship. It wasn’t that Mickey hadn’t been open about their relationship when they were home in New York; he was. But Terry’s passing freed Mickey. He was lighter, happier. He smiled more. Ian had always looked at him and seen the boy he fell in love with, the man he loved with no bounds, in ways that weren’t always beneficial to either of them. Mickey’s love had always been different. Quiet. Implied. Restricted.

Ian wished he could explain it. The closest thing that he could think of was when he and Mickey had taken MDMA together on a whim. Roger had gotten it from one of the bar patrons and Ian had been curious. Mickey didn’t like the idea of him doing it alone so the two of them had waited until they had the apartment to themselves and both went for it together. Ian had never felt so open and close to Mickey in his life, and when the drug had made them horny, they stripped each other down. It was the most intense sex they ever had. Their connection sparked between them, and the following morning, Ian felt drunk on the memory of it all.

This feeling was like a constant low dosage of that happiness and intensity he had experienced. His energy was boundless. He would finish his shifts at the bar and come home to sleep for a few hours before he was getting up and going for jogs. He was still constantly volunteering with Roger and making plans with Claire, and Mickey could barely keep up with Ian from one day to the next.

He had caught Mickey watching him curiously on occasion, but Mickey never said anything about it.

Ian was on his way home from a closing shift at the bar. It was late; no one was out in New York at this time except the pros looking for their last john of the night and the taxi drivers looking to luck out and catch one more fare on their way home. His body was thrumming with energy as he bounded the few blocks home on foot and made it to their building.

Ian wasn’t worried about waking Mickey up; he was between jobs and would often get up when Ian got home and catch up on the night’s events before they both went back to bed. Ian fished out his keys and let himself into the building, thumbing through his keychain until he found the pair for their apartment door. When he was inside, he moved a little more carefully, trying to be quiet for Carly and Claire’s sake.

Ian moved into the bedroom he and Mickey shared and found his boyfriend sound asleep, curled around a pillow in Ian’s absence. He took in the sight for a moment while he pulled off his platform shoes and got undressed,  stripping until he was completely naked. He approached the bed, gently lowering himself on top of Mickey. Ian leaned close to Mickey’s ear and gently nibbled his earlobe until he felt Mickey stirring beneath him.

“Mickeyyyyy,” he teased, elongating his name with persistence. “Wake up.”

“Ian, ‘m fuckin’ sleeping.”

Ian gently kissed behind Mickey’s ear and trailed down his neck, switching between light kisses and the drag of his tongue across Mickey’s skin. Ian knew how to wake him up, and he hadn’t even made it to Mickey’s clavicle before he felt stirring beneath him. Ian slid his hand between Mickey’s body and the pillow and moved down until he found Mickey’s cock, giving it a firm squeeze.

Mickey’s eyes shot open. “Fuck,” he gasped. “It’s late, man.”

Ian was undeterred. He moved his hand into Mickey’s underwear and took hold again, this time stroking him to full hardness. He felt Mickey’s breath hot on his own cheek and soon Mickey was wriggling under him to reach over to the bedside table for lube and a condom. Ian took a moment to spread some lube on his fingers while Mickey pulled off his underwear and tossed them across the room.

Not wanting to waste much time on foreplay, Ian inserted two fingers into Mickey, eliciting a surprised gasp. As Ian worked quickly to loosen him up, Mickey bucked his hips and thrust himself against Ian’s hand. Watching Mickey’s arousal building beneath him had Ian turned on, and he felt himself hardening fast. He withdrew his fingers so he could roll the condom over his stiff dick and lube himself up. He aligned himself with Mickey’s ass and pushed into him. He thrust in and out slowly until Mickey started to move his hips to meet him. Ian braced himself and started to move his hips faster, pressing his lips to Mickey’s and kissing him hard. He ran his tongue across the seam of Mickey’s mouth until he gained entry and he deepened the kiss, their tongues moving together and breath hot.

Mickey moaned into Ian’s kiss, reaching between them to touch himself and give some relief to his aching cock. They were both close, and when Ian felt Mickey come, clenching around him and spilling onto Ian’s stomach, it drove him over the edge and he came too. He lowered himself until he was lying pressed on top of Mickey, not minding the hot sweat and stickiness between them.

As their breathing slowed, Mickey pushed Ian’s damp hair off of his forehead. “You better be plannin’ to take a shower, you still smell like the bar.”

Ian poked at his stomach and the mess in between them. “Looks like you’re gonna need one too. Let’s go together.”

Mickey patted at his back and Ian got up to let him move. He reached for Mickey’s cigarettes and shook one out of the pack, lighting it and taking a deep, satisfied drag. Mickey plucked it from him and put it between his own lips, pulling the smoke in and blowing it up towards the ceiling. They left the room naked to go to the shower, knowing the girls wouldn’t be up to catch them at this time. Ian felt like he could go another round, almost considered trying to get frisky in the shower. But when he saw how heavy Mickey’s eyelids were as he lathered and rinsed off, he figured it was best to call it a night.

\----------

After only about three hours of sleep, Ian was awake again. He found it strange that he felt so perky on such little sleep, but he chalked it up to a lot of practice with maintaining early hours when he was in ROTC. He dressed quietly, not looking to bother Mickey this time, and tiptoed out of the room. Neither of the girls had emerged from their rooms yet, so Ian left the apartment quietly to go for a run. He sprinted his way around the neighborhood, relishing the burn in his legs and lungs. After a couple of miles, Ian slowed his run into a jog and started to make his way back to the apartment. Before he got home, he stopped to pick up a newspaper and some bread, and brought everything upstairs.

Ian went into the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee and made himself some toast. He was in the middle of spreading jelly on it when Claire emerged from her room, heading straight for the coffee pot. He gestured towards the bread and she put a few slices for herself in the toaster.

“Mickey still asleep?”

Ian nodded with a grin. “I wore him out.”

Claire snorted and reached for the paper, flipping through stories about the new World Trade Center downtown and a new mail delivery service called Federal Express. They ate in amiable silence, not feeling the need to fill it with mindless chatter. Eventually Carly emerged from her room and Ian decided to check on Mickey. He made up some fresh toast and coffee and brought it to their room, kicking the door open to see Mickey still sleeping soundly. Ian put the plate and mug on the table on Mickey’s side and laid down on his own side. He reached over and gently ran his fingers through Mickey’s dark hair, relishing how soft it felt without pomade in it.

Mickey stirred and stretched, leaning into Ian’s touch. He rolled over and gave Ian a sleepy smile. “Morning’.”

Ian leaned over and kissed him. “Morning. Got something for ya.”

He motioned with his chin and Mickey followed the gesture and saw the food Ian brought him. He picked up the mug and took a sip, eyes closing in contentment. He sat himself up better and leaned against Ian, eating and drinking slowly.

Ian let his gaze run over Mickey’s still-naked form, only covered from the waist down by the sheets. “Last night was great.”

“Mmhmm,” Mickey hummed in agreement. “Not always going to appreciate being woken up for that though. Some of us like our fuckin’ sleep. How much rest did you even get last night? You’ve been up for awhile. I woke up earlier and you were already gone.”

Ian shrugged. “I got plenty, I feel great!” He deflected the question, feeling a little uncomfortable but brushing it off. “Hey, let’s do something today. Go to a movie or something.”

Mickey shrugged and nodded his agreement.

Ian leaned over and kissed him again. Things were really fuckin’ great.

  


**MAY**

 

_Mickey – Bill Withers – Lean On Me_

 

Mickey had noticed that Ian was acting different, but nothing could have prepared him for what would happen.

  
He would find himself watching Ian, intrigued by his limitless energy and ability to bounce from one topic to the next, one place to another. Ian had always had a lot more enthusiasm and zeal than Mickey in general, but he wasn't usually this... over the top. It was like he was always on full volume. Mickey just chalked it up to everything going well for them, and that lifting Ian's spirits even higher.

  
Mickey had lost his job going home for Terry's funeral, but Ian was doing well enough at the bar to make up the difference while Mickey hit the pavement and job hunted. Mickey hadn't been thrilled when Ian's boss adopted a new dress code for the guys, which was much more revealing than it had been, but it was hard to argue with the increase in tips that Ian counted out nightly when he got home. Besides, Mickey knew that Ian was more than able to handle himself, his years of ROTC training a useful tool. Still, he never slept easy until Ian was pressed at his side.

  
But generally, things were pretty great, and Mickey had no indication otherwise until one day, Ian just wouldn't get out of bed.

  
Mickey was up early for a change, heading out for a job interview with a construction company in the Bronx. He showered and dressed, and Ian didn't wake up to see him off. There had been a particularly rowdy crowd of drag queens at the bar the night before and Mickey just blamed it on that. He ran his hand over Ian's hair, smoothing it back and placing a kiss on Ian's temple before he grabbed his keys and left. The interview was a disaster and Mickey was in a foul mood when he made it back to the house to find Ian still in bed. He moved around the bed and pushed the curtains open and window up to let in some light and fresh air.

  
"Hey Sleeping Beauty," Mickey asked as he shook Ian's shoulder lightly. "You gonna get up anytime soon?"

  
Ian mumbled but didn't give a proper response, which only annoyed Mickey more. "Did you even eat anything? Ian?"

  
This time, Ian's response was much clearer. "Leave me alone." Ian rolled over and turned away from Mickey, whose anger was rising in response to the dismissal.

  
"Fine, fuck you then." Mickey huffed and grabbed his keys again. "I'm going out."

  
He didn't go far, only around the corner to the local bar they frequented when they weren't working. He knew if he saw Luis, their friend and neighbor, he could get at least one free drink. Mickey pushed the door open and found he was getting a break when he saw Luis wiping down the bar. He made his way across the room and dropped himself dramatically onto one of the empty stools.  Luis poured him a drink and they commiserated for a little while until some customers came in and Luis had to attend to them. Mickey sulked over a beer, wondering just what the hell had crawled up Ian's ass. They hadn't fought about anything, Ian was okay the night before besides seeming really drained. He had come home and gone right to bed, but it was the middle of the night and Mickey hadn't thought anything about it. He took a slug of his beer, swishing it around his mouth for a minute while he ran through their interaction in his mind.

  
Maybe Ian wasn't feeling well. Mickey tossed the idea around and guilt crept in, gnawing away in his belly. If that was the case, Mickey knew he would feel really shitty about his attitude earlier. He got up from his seat, scrounging money out of his pocket for a tip and tucking it under his empty glass. He was going to go home and check on Ian. He made his way back to the apartment and found Ian exactly as he had left him. His concern was now building and he crawled across the bed and pulled the blanket away from Ian's shoulder to try to get a better look at him.

“Hey, I'm sorry I got pissed earlier, man. You okay?"

  
"Go away." Ian's voice was barely a mumble into the sheets.

  
"Are you sick? Do you need anything? Some food maybe?"

  
"Jesus, leave me alone!"

Mickey recoiled as if Ian had physically slapped him. He was worried, but he was also mad. Whatever was bothering Ian wasn't his fault, and he resented that Ian was acting like it was. He went into the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. After a long pause, he made one for Ian also, and brought it into their room with a glass of water. He put it on the table on Ian's side of the bed and looked down at him. Ian's eyes were closed but Mickey knew he was awake. Mickey wanted so badly to reach out and touch Ian, to hold him and comfort him, but he was afraid he would be rejected. He let his gaze linger a little longer on Ian’s still figure before he turned and left the room.

  
Mickey grabbed his plate of food, bringing it into the living room and turning on the TV. He put on the Knicks game, though he wasn't particularly interested in it. Mickey tried not to focus on whatever was happening with Ian, but he had moved past annoyed and was now firmly in the worried camp. When Claire finally came home, he was relieved to have someone to talk to about it.

  
Mickey practically accosted her when she walked in the door. "Something's going on with Ian."

  
She looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?" She put down her purse and moved towards the kitchen with the bags she was holding in her hand.

  
Mickey trailed after her. "He hasn't moved all day. He was in bed when I went to my interview, when I came back. I went out and came back again and he was still there. I still don't think he's gotten up at all. I tried to talk to him and he won't talk to me. Told me to leave him alone."

  
Claire mulled over his words while taking the items out of the bags and putting them away. "That's strange, it doesn't sound like him. Want me to try to talk to him?"

  
Mickey shrugged, but nodded too. Claire went to their bedroom door, Mickey right behind her, and she knocked gently. "Ian? Sweetie, it's Claire, can I come in?"

  
She didn't wait for an answer, pushing the door open gently and making her way around to where Ian was curled up. Mickey watched from the doorway, anxiously biting the insides of his cheeks. Claire kneeled down in front of Ian and murmured softly to him, stroking his hair in a very motherly way. Ian didn't seem to be giving her much of a response either. Mickey looked over them and saw that Ian hadn't touched his food or water.

Finally, Claire stood up and left the room to talk to Mickey. "Could he be on something?"

Mickey thought for a moment and shook his head. "I don't think so. He came home last night and he was tired but he seemed fine otherwise. Even if he had taken something, it shoulda worn off by now."

Claire hesitated for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with what she was about to say. "Maybe you should call his family," she suggested.

He looked at her sharply. "Why the hell would I do that?"

She reached over and squeezed Mickey's hand. "Maybe this has happened before, that's all. Who better to ask?"

Mickey wriggled his hand out of her grasp and said, "Well if he's not better in a day or two I'll try that, okay? For now I'll handle it."

He stalked past her and went back into the living room while she retreated into her bedroom. Mickey stared at the TV blankly without seeing what he was watching. Time ticked on and he eventually started feeling tired, and he finally decided he had to go to bed sometime. Mickey turned off the TV and entered their bedroom.

Ian was still lying there, immobile on the bed, as he had been all day. Mickey noticed he had taken a few bites out of the sandwich and the water was gone. He took the plate and cup to the kitchen, throwing the sandwich out and refilling the water and bringing it back with him. He put the cup back in its place and looked at Ian. The room was dark but there was a glow from the moonlight, and Mickey could see Ian’s cheeks were wet with tears.

Mickey crouched down and wiped them away gently with his thumb. “Ian, please talk to me. Did something happen? What’s wrong? _Please_.”

“I don’t know,” Ian whispered in reply, the tears falling a little faster. “I just feel… awful. I don’t know.”

Mickey climbed over Ian and nestled behind him in bed. He held him lightly, testing to see if Ian would push him away. When he didn’t, Mickey nuzzled closer, running his hand up and down Ian’s arm to calm him.

“Okay,” Mickey soothed. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll take care of you until you’re better.”

He pressed his lips into Ian’s hair lightly. Mickey didn’t know what to do, but he knew he would figure it out.

 

**AUGUST**

 

_Ian – Stevie Wonder – Superstition_

 

Ian felt much better after he came out of his funk.

That's what he was calling it anyway. He didn't know what else to refer to it as, and he couldn't begin to figure out how to describe it except to say it had been _awful_. For over a week, Ian had barely left his bed. He had no appetite and slept away most of the day and night. He was really depressed and he couldn’t figure it out. When he told Mickey he didn’t know why he felt that way, it was the truth.

Ian had almost lost his job, but Mickey had gone down to the bar and managed to convince Ian’s  boss that he had caught a terrible flu and was too sick to work. Looking at him, it would have been believable. Even after he had started to feel better, all that time being sedentary in his bedroom had an effect. Ian looked tired, drawn, and he had noticeably lost a few pounds, which he could ill afford on his naturally lean frame.

He was relieved to feel more like himself. But it was slow and Ian was impatient, and he wanted some reassurance that his mood would improve and stay that way. He talked to one of his friends at the bar, Jeremy, about getting a little pick me up. Jeremy had led Ian into the back room and pulled a small baggie out from where it was tucked in the skimpy shorts that made up their new uniforms. Ian wasn’t even sure what it was, but he watched Jeremy take the little rocks out of the bag and chop them into a powder form. _Cocaine_ , Ian realized.

Ian had never tried it, and he couldn’t help but be curious about it. He watched as Jeremy formed the powder into lines on the sink counter and rolled up a dollar bill. He placed it in front of one of the lines and snorted the drug up his nose. He offered the bill to Ian and he bent down. Here goes nothing. He sniffed hard, feeling the powder enter and causing immediate discomfort, like when you go swimming and water gets up your nose. He kept sniffing until the feeling dissipated.

There was a bit of residue left on the glass and Jeremy swiped it up with his finger. He motioned Ian to lean towards him and squeezed Ian’s jaw lightly with his free hand until Ian opened his mouth. He took his thumb and pushed Ian’s lip up, rubbing the finger with the leftover powder over Ian’s gums.

It was no time at all before the effects of the drug took hold. Ian could feel his breath quickening and he was skittish. His heart was pumping as if he had exercised. But he felt good. He was awash with intense happiness. At one point, he took a break to use the bathroom, and he appraised himself in the mirror, noticing vaguely that his pupils were very dilated.

The cocaine made Ian feel better than he wanted to admit. He decided it was just because of coming out of a rough patch and just being happier in contrast to that.

The high was amazing, but by the time Ian got home, he was coming down from it. Ian went straight to sleep, and the next morning there was a lingering depression from the aftereffects. At first, Ian was scared that he was about to suffer a repeat of his week in bed, but the feeling passed and Ian put two and two together to figure out what was going on.

If he had thought harder about it, Ian would have realized that he was forging a dangerous path, one that he should avoid altogether. But he wanted to chase that happiness, that high. He didn’t want to feel that low again. He had started to use with more frequency as the months after his episode went on. Even when he wasn’t using, he was starting to feel that intense pleasure and euphoria from before, and it made his drug use easier to hide.

Soon it became difficult for Ian to separate himself from using, from the constant state of chasing happiness. He knew that he had done some questionable things, but somehow it didn’t seem that serious. Jeremy had been a driving force in keeping him supplied, and he knew that Jeremy had done it mostly at his own expense. So when the time came that Jeremy got him high and then had kissed him, it didn’t seem to be a big deal. The next time, Jeremy had gotten Ian so high that when he managed to barely get home after his shift, he didn’t even remember when Jeremy had unzipped his own pants and guided Ian’s head towards him.

The morning after that, Ian had woken up in the vestibule of his apartment building with Mickey shaking him and no recollection of how he made it home. Mickey was furious, that much was obvious. But under that was a healthy level of fear that even Ian recognized. He tried to blame it on going overboard with the partying, and Mickey only seemed to accept that response out of desperation and not actual belief.

Then came the night when the bottom fell out of everything.

Ian’s memories of some of his recent partying were hazy at best, and he had developed discomfort being around Jeremy. But he also wanted the drugs that Jeremy provided, and they worked together, so Ian stifled his feelings. It had been a slow build, but Ian’s tolerance was growing and it was starting to take more to get him high. Jeremy had managed to get a big score and had brought some in for the both of them; it was the most Ian had ever seen him with. As usual, Jeremy prepared it while Ian waited anxiously. He practically felt his nose twitching in anticipation of what was to come. Jeremy chopped and formed the lines and Ian hit them quickly, sitting up like a shot and sniffing it back. As he sniffed and rubbed at his nose, he felt different than before. He watched with unfocused eyes while Jeremy followed suit and inhaled the drug. Ian felt himself blink a few times and the last thing he remembered was Jeremy pressed at his side and kissing his neck before he collapsed on the floor.

\----------

When Ian came to, he tried to stretch and found that he couldn’t move his arms.

He felt panic rise up in his chest as his eyes flew open and he took in his surroundings. He was in a hospital. He first saw that Mickey was sleeping in a chair next to him, and then that his hands were restrained to the bed. He frantically tried to shake the restraints off and the noise of his struggle was enough to wake Mickey. He got up and rushed to Ian’s side, taking Ian’s face gently in his hands.

“Hey, calm down, you’re alright.” Mickey reassured him. “You’re in the hospital, you overdosed.”

Ian still fought against the restraints, his frustration growing. “Why the fuck am I cuffed to the bed?”

“They thought… They thought you might be a danger to yourself. That the overdose was intentional.” Mickey’s voice was barely a whisper. It was clear that the doctors’ fears were Mickey’s fears too.

“No!” Ian shouted. “Mick, no, it was an accident! I was just partying a little too hard! That’s all!”

Ian didn’t need to ask to know that Mickey wasn’t sure if he believed that. Seeing the doubt riddling his face filled Ian with anger, shame and hurt. He wanted to scream in Mickey’s face, convince him that it was an accident, it wasn’t a big deal. But before he had a chance a young nurse came in and interrupted.

“Good to see you’re awake, Mr. Gallagher.” Her greeting was neutral but pleasant. “I’m just going to take your vital signs and then we’ll have the doctor come in to see you, okay?”

Ian shook his arms to get her attention. “Can you please take these off?”

She held a thermometer out by his face until he took it in his mouth and wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm, pumping it as she replied. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to discuss that with the doctor. I can’t do that without his instruction.”

He moaned in annoyance while she took the thermometer and recorded all of his vital signs in his chart. “I’ll have the doctor notified, he should be down here shortly.” She hung his chart on the door and left.

Mickey had moved to the window and was staring outside. Ian looked him over, how tired he clearly was. He was disheveled and for the first time, Ian noticed that he was in pajamas. Ian felt guilt settle inside him. For the first time since he woke up, he was looking at Mickey and seeing what this was doing to him. Ian wanted to offer reassurances, apologies, but he didn’t know where to begin.

He laid back on the bed, resigned to not fighting against the restraints anymore. They waited in silence until the doctor finally appeared.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Schwartz,” he announced as he entered the room. “How are you feeling Mr. Gallagher?”

“Okay,” Ian replied. “Though I’d love to get these removed.” He shook the restraints to get the doctor’s attention.

Dr. Schwartz nodded knowingly. “And I’d love to help you with that just as soon as we deem you fit.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Ian asked.

The doctor clarified. “As soon as we decide you’re not a threat to yourself or anyone else, we can see about getting those restraints off.”

Ian was livid. “A THREAT?! What, because I got a little too high? I’m young, I work in a bar, sometimes we party! I did something stupid, that doesn’t mean I’m a threat to anyone!”

Dr. Schwartz had been writing notes in the chart and he stopped to level Ian with a hard stare. “Mr. Gallagher, you did not just ‘get a little too high,’ you overdosed and had a seizure. You were found convulsing and unconscious on the bathroom floor at your job and rushed here. And from what I understand, there have been other instances over the past few months that are of concern to your partner here and your friends. So, whenever you are ready to discuss this then we can evaluate everything and see where we stand.”

“Other instances?” Ian asked, confused. He wasn’t sure what the doctor meant.

“From the history provided to me, there was a period where you were depressed and took to your bed for over a week. Before that you seemed to be experiencing an undue amount of energy which also happened after the episode and preceded or coincided with your increasing drug use.”

Ian stared at Mickey who kept his gaze on the floor, refusing to look up. He felt utterly betrayed. If they had been so concerned with his behavior, why hadn’t they just talked to him about it? He felt overwhelmed tears welling in his eyes from all of the new information.

Doctor Schwartz looked at him sympathetically. “Ian, I know this is a lot to take in, and you just woke up here so I’m sure you’re disoriented. Dinner service is starting soon. If you can be calm, I will allow the nurses to remove the restraints for you to eat and then we can circle back tomorrow and discuss everything. Alright?”

Ian nodded meekly. He had no fight left in him for the moment. The doctor patted his shoulder sympathetically and left.

With the doctor gone, Ian refocused his attention on Mickey. “How could you tell him that shit, Mick? _Why_?”

Mickey finally looked at him and Ian could see his eyes were wet. “I’m worried about you… I _love_ you.”

There was the guilt again, a dull ache in Ian’s mind. “Mick, I’m sorry. But I swear, it was just a fluke. I’m fine. This was just an accident.”

Mickey’s lip quivered and he bit it until it stopped. “You’re sick. You need help. Maybe you need to be in a hospital, Ian. Just until they get things figured out.”

“Get out,” Ian demanded. “GET OUT.”

Mickey left the room without a fight. Ian was so angry, that by the time the nurses came around during meal service, they didn’t feel comfortable removing the restraints. He felt utterly embarrassed when they had to feed him because they wouldn’t release his hands. They came back with two pills rolling in the bottom of a paper cup, and he didn't even ask what they were, just swallowed them down with the water they held for him. At that point, if for nothing else, he figured it would just be easier to cooperate until he could get them to realize that he was fine, and then he could go home.

\----------

“So Ian, how are you feeling today?” Dr. Schwartz asked him.

“Better,” Ian replied. “Not so foggy. Not so angry. It was very confusing yesterday when I woke up. Also feel kind of numb."

Dr. Schwartz nodded as he took notes. “That’s totally understandable. When people are confronted with things that frighten them or that they don’t understand, it’s natural to react in that fight or flight manner. It’s normal. The numb feeling is from the mild sedative we gave you yesterday to calm you down. I need to discuss something with you and I would like you to be open minded about this, Ian. Can you try to do that?”

Ian nodded warily.

“Ian, I’ve been reviewing the information provided by your partner and your roommates, as well as the questions I had you fill out before our appointment. I also spoke with your sister, Fiona, and she provided me with further information, including family history. Based on all of these things, I believe there is a strong argument for manic depression.”

The words were no sooner out of the doctor’s mouth when Ian started shaking his head vehemently. “No, I’m not my mother.”

Dr. Schwartz put his notepad down and leaned back. “Let’s talk about your depressive episode, Ian. Tell me about how you were feeling, what you were thinking.”

Ian dragged a hand over his face. “I’d been feeling a little weird for a few days but nothing in particular. That night when I came home I was exhausted. It had been a long night at work, I thought that’s all it was, but when I woke up the next morning I wasn’t just tired. I was just very run down, I think maybe I was just getting sick.”

The doctor watched him for a moment, and prompted him when he didn’t say anything else. “What else were you feeling, Ian?”

"Everything just felt... Hopeless. And overwhelming. I was upset and emotional but I don't know why."

Dr. Schwartz nodded thoughtfully. "Ian, sometimes with manic depression nothing needs to 'happen,' per se. Sometimes the symptoms manifest on their own."

Ian pursed his lips and willed himself not to lose his temper. "Doc, I'm not manic depressive or whatever. I'm not."

"I'm sorry Ian, but you are."

He felt his attitude darken at that. "You and your colleagues also think homosexuality is a mental disorder. Am I crazy because I'm gay too?"

Dr. Schwartz actually smirked at that. "People do make mistakes, Ian. I don't think you're crazy for being gay any more than I am." He pulled out his wallet and showed Ian a photo of him and another man. "Tim, my partner." He closed the wallet and put it back in his pocket. "But in terms of your diagnosis, it's not a mistake."

Ian found himself staring at the floor, feeling the burden of that label over his head. He knew what people would think. Hell, he knew how he and his own siblings had lambasted their mother. He couldn't be like her. He wouldn't make the choices she had made, how could someone say they were the same?

The doctor was still talking but Ian had checked out of the conversation and heard none of it. He was transferred to a psychiatric ward for further observation, but he wouldn't be restrained anymore. He felt minor relief at that.

Ian was brought to a nurses station a few hours later, where they offered him another paper cup with different pills this time.

"What are these?" He asked the nurse on duty.

Her monotone conveyed her boredom with the question. She must have heard it frequently. "Lithium, sir. Please take them and open your mouth so I can see that you have swallowed them."

Ian flushed with embarrassment as he did what she told him, opening his mouth and lifting his tongue until she gave him a stern nod.

He wandered through the common area, appreciating the freedom of movement but resenting that it was only within that space. He sat on a couch in front of the TV and stared off as the drugs took effect. It wasn't altogether unpleasant to let his mind wander away from his surroundings. Ian lost track of time as he sat there until an orderly came over and got his attention.

“Ian? You have a visitor.”

Ian turned around and saw Mickey there. He stood up and let Mickey give him a hug, but it didn’t occur to him to return it and he kept his arms hanging at his sides. Ian vaguely remembered being mad at Mickey, but it seemed like a distant memory. He wasn’t mad now, just… detached. Everything seemed to be happening around him, but not with or to him.

He could see that Mickey was trying to talk to him, and he did his best to concentrate, but he could also see the TV behind Mickey and it was distracting. Ian felt Mickey’s hand on his knee, drawing him back to the present company. He refocused his gaze on Mickey as best he could, but he was very tired and it was making the entire ordeal difficult.

“I’m going to take a nap,” Ian announced suddenly.

He stood up and left the common area, roaming the hallway until a floor nurse found him and guided him to his room. She showed him to his bed and he laid down, curling into the fetal position.

\----------

After a few days on his new routine, Ian was slowly beginning to adjust to the medicine they were giving him. But rather than making him feel better, he barely felt anything at all. His feelings were stunted, dulled around the edges, and he struggled with confusion which surrounded most of his thoughts and activities. He had been thinking a lot about Mickey, who had been there every day to see him with varying results.

Ian thought about Mickey having to deal with whatever was going on with him at any given time. He still hadn’t accepted the manic depressive diagnosis that Dr. Schwartz had given him, though he was willing to acknowledge to himself that something seemed different from how he had been just a few short months ago. Ian thought about what a burden it could be to love someone with an illness. He thought about Monica, flitting in and out of their lives with nary a warning. He loved Mickey, had loved him for the better part of the past five years, and he wasn’t going to do that to him.

Ian was in the common area, sitting in a chair and staring out the gated window. Like clockwork, as soon as visiting hours officially started, Mickey appeared from the security check-in area. He came over and greeted Ian, who was cordial. He had to be. Ian had to hold himself together as best he could if he was going to get this done.

Mickey looked at Ian and it was clear that he could see something was wrong. “Hey man, you okay?”

Ian slumped down in his chair. “You used to love me. Now you don’t even know who I am.”

“Ian,” Mickey pleaded as he leaned forward to reach for him. “I do love you.”

“What does that even mean?” He asked blankly.

Mickey looked thoroughly puzzled. “It means we take care of each other.”

Ian sighed. “I don’t want you sitting around worrying, watching me, waiting for me to do my next crazy shit.”

“Why would you even say that? That’s not how it is.” Mickey replied, a hitch in his voice. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Too much!” Ian’s voice raised with emotion and he could see the nurse watching him. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “Too much is wrong with me. That’s the problem isn’t it? Too much is wrong with me. You can’t do anything about that, you can’t change it. You can’t fix me. Cuz I’m not broken, I don’t need to be fixed, okay? I’m me!”

“Ian, I never said any of those things, okay? Ian?” Mickey pleaded, but Ian had shut down. He wasn’t listening anymore. Recognition dawned in Mickey’s eyes. “This is it. This is you breaking up with me.”

“Yea.”

“Really?” Fat tears fell from Mickey’s eyes and slid down his cheeks. He didn’t even attempt to hide them. “Fuck.”

Ian didn’t give Mickey the chance to say anything else. He knew if he did, he would backpedal on everything that had just happened, and really, he thought Mickey was better off. He got up and walked down the hallway to his room. The last thing he saw when he glanced back was Mickey sitting there alone.

\----------

When Ian was finally released a few days later, he was relieved. He signed his discharge paperwork and collected his things. He had just enough money to hail a cab back to his apartment. He shuffled his way up the stairs and let himself in. The apartment was quiet, no signs of Carly, Claire or Mickey anywhere. He made his way to his and Mickey’s bedroom, hesitating with his hand on the knob for a moment before he finally turned it and pushed the door open. Everything looked the same, until he opened a drawer for clean clothes and noticed the empty half where Mickey’s things used to be. He pulled out the rest of the drawers and flung open the closet door.

Mickey was gone.

\----------

Later, Ian went to get a drink of water from the bathroom so he could take his nightly dosage of lithium. He stared at the bottle thoughtfully before he dumped them all in the toilet and flushed it.

 

_Mickey – The Spinners – I'll Be Around_

 

Mickey was numb.

In the early days of his and Ian’s relationship, which Mickey finally understood had been a relationship all along, he was always waiting for something to go wrong. It never occurred to him that he could truly have the things he wanted in life. When Terry had caught them and broke them apart, Mickey was able to go on because secretly he hadn’t ever really expected anything more.  Hell, he didn’t even believe he deserved more. But when they reunited, he finally started to believe in fate and destiny and all that bullshit that he thought someone like himself, Mickey fuckin’ Milkovich, would never have a piece of. Ian was worth it all. Worth the risk, the fear, the _chance_. Ian helped Mickey believe that _he_ was worth it, too.

He was so angry at himself for ever dropping his guard.

As he had sat there in the hospital with Ian, he finally understood the meaning of the word heartbreak. It was as if Mickey could actually feel his chest splintering into millions of pieces. He had watched as Ian walked away from him, away from their life together, and long after Ian had disappeared from view he had sat there in the visitor’s area, hoping that it was all a mistake, or a cruel joke, or that Ian would come to his goddamn senses and come back. Eventually, it became painfully obvious that wasn’t going to happen, and Mickey had forced himself to leave amid the pity stares of the nurses and orderlies doing their rounds. He had stopped in a restroom on his way to the elevator, shutting himself in a stall as he gasped for air. His chest felt tight, and for a moment he swore he was having a heart attack, that Ian had broken him so badly, his body was physically breaking down.

Mickey forced his breathing back under control after a few minutes, and finally unlocked the stall door. He stepped up to the closest sink, splashing his face with cold water, and appraised his reflection in the dirty mirror. His eyes were swollen and rimmed with pink. Mickey walked towards the elevators, keeping his eyes down until he was outside. Mickey went to the subway and fumbled through his pockets until he found a token in the bottom of one. He stuck it in the slot and pushed through the turnstile just in time to catch the train. He managed to snag a seat and he slumped down until it was time to get off.

Mickey made his way back to the apartment, grateful when he opened the door to find he was the only one home. He stood in front of their bedroom door for a moment before he pushed it open and forced himself to step inside. He couldn’t understand how everything looked the same, even though his world was flipped upside down. Mickey took it in, looking around before finally going over to their closet and taking his suitcase out. He laid it on the bed and tugged the zipper open, before slowly beginning to pack his things.

He reached back into the closet and pulled out his army uniform, perfectly pressed on the hanger. He laid it inside the suitcase and smoothed his hand over it. Mickey thought of the last time he had worn that uniform, how Ian had stripped it off of him in his hotel room the night they reunited. Hot tears filled his eyes and spilled over as he remembered that night.  

It had meant everything to him.

Mickey never even attended the award ceremony to receive his medals. The morning after they got back together, Mickey checked out of the hotel and left with Ian and his friends for New York. It was the single most impulsive thing he’d ever done, and he never once regretted it until this moment.

Mickey’s hands trembled as he opened and closed the dresser drawers, pulling out his clothes and throwing them carelessly into the suitcase on the bed. When the last of his things were in place, he closed the lid and fastened the clasps. He was about to grab the bag and leave… when his eyes caught on the picture on Ian’s nightstand and his lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile.

They had been invited to a Halloween party and Ian insisted they dress up in a couple’s theme. At first Mickey had balked at the idea, but he couldn’t help but laugh when one of the drag queens at Ian’s bar had let him borrow an outfit, and soon Mickey relented. They had gone to the party as Sonny and Cher, with Ian in full drag complete with a long, black wig. The costumes were a hit, and everyone had taken pictures of them. One of Ian’s friends had given them a copy and it had been on Ian’s nightstand ever since.

Mickey picked up the frame and opened the back. He took the picture out and opened the suitcase, laying the picture on top before closing it up again. Mickey grabbed the handle and turned to leave. He was almost out of the room when he hesitated. Mickey stopped in the doorway and turned around to survey the room one more time. He reached into his pocket and withdrew Ian's butterfly knife. He squeezed it tightly one last time before gently placing it on Ian's nightstand. In that moment, he knew he would never see this apartment again.

When Mickey stepped out of the bedroom, he was greeted by the sight of Claire in the living room. They locked eyes for a moment before she looked down and noticed what he was holding.

“What’s that for?” She asked him curiously.

Mickey averted his gaze. “Ian broke up with me. I’m leaving.”

Claire stared at him, her mouth gaping open. “Mickey, what do you mean? That can’t be right. You can’t go!”

Mickey shook his head. "This was a mistake. I should never have...I'm so fuckin' stupid."

"Mick-"

"I'm a goddamned fool. I let myself believe I could be happy. I should have known the floor would fall out from under me eventually."

Claire tried to get up and go to him, but Mickey stepped back, flustered, and shook his head vigorously. “Please don’t. I can’t… I just… Please take care of Ian. Keep an eye on him. Don’t hesitate to call his family if you have to. I gotta go, I can’t be here anymore.”

Mickey took his copy of the apartment and building keys off of his keychain and grabbed his suitcase. He handed Claire the keys and opened the front door. She watched as Mickey made his way across the hallway and turned out of sight as he descended the stairs.

\---------

Mickey spent the night in the bus depot, refusing to go back to the apartment. He couldn’t spend another second there. The apartment he had thought was home was in his past now. Mickey caught the earliest bus to Chicago that was available and slept most of the trip. He felt like the life had been sucked out of him. Despite sleeping for so long, Mickey was exhausted by the time he arrived. The last time they had been in Chicago had been bitingly cold; now it was swelteringly hot. Mickey trudged with his suitcase to the el and made his way to his stop. When he got off, he walked the few blocks to his final destination and knocked on the door. He heard a commotion inside as footsteps made their way towards him. When the door opened, Mickey looked up tiredly to meet the puzzled eyes staring back at him.

“Well,” Mickey said blankly. “I’m back.”

Sully observed Mickey’s pained expression with concern, but knew better than to ask. Instead, he reached forward, pulling him into a bear hug. “Welcome home, brother.”

 

**1975**

**MAY**

 

_Mickey – The Eagles – Best Of My Love_

 

After nearly five years out of the army, countless jobs, and a lot of sleepless nights, it seemed Mickey was finally living with some sort of stability again. For him, anyway. Sully had been traveling with the Eagles as a part of their One of These Nights tour and had managed to get Mickey a job with him as a roadie for their US tour dates. Not only was it great having a job that he actually liked, but it was even better doing it with his best friend.

He had felt bad leaving Mandy behind in Chicago, but she had encouraged him to go. She had joked that at least with him gone, she would have a set of eyes on her husband to make sure he behaved. Mickey still found it weird to hear Mandy call Sully her husband, even though by now he should have really been used to it. They had grown close after Terry died and Mickey returned to New York, and it has blossomed into more than either of them had anticipated.

Initially, they had kept their relationship a secret from Mickey, but when Mandy had turned up pregnant with Sully’s baby shortly before Mickey returned to Chicago after his breakup, they knew they had to come clean. He took the news well; Mickey trusted no one like Sully and couldn’t have picked anyone better for his sister. Though the adjustment period was strange. And Mickey did more than a little eye rolling watching Sully and Mandy moon over each other.

Sully had saved his money diligently and had bought a small fixer upper house in the Southside before he had quit working in construction, and when Mickey had returned home, he had moved in with them and helped Sully with all of the work. The three of them had a nice life and when Mandy gave birth to her daughter, Heather, it changed something in not just Mandy and Sully, but Mickey too. Heather made them all want to be better, to _do_ better.

\----------

The tour was plugging along and they were wrapping up that night’s show in New York. Mickey hadn't been back there since he and Ian broke up, but the shows kept him so busy that Mickey hadn’t had much opportunity to think about it until he was done for the night and unwinding. Stage work was hard work; usually the minute Mickey's head hit a pillow, he was out like a light.

The crew was moving around the stage, coiling wires and packing away instruments and equipment. The crowd had emptied out though some people lingered, mostly music executives, venue employees or friends of the band. Mickey paid them no mind as he did his work. It was the same at every show. As long as they didn't get in his way, and they never did, Mickey couldn't care less who hovered around.

He had a hold on a long cord that he was coiling over his hand and under his elbow so that he could bundle it. Mickey moved quickly, comfortable with the routine by now. He felt rather than saw Sully approach him.

“Mick?” He asked.

Mickey grunted at him to continue, trying to loop the end of the cord around the bundle to keep it together.

"Do you believe in aliens?" Sully asked him quietly.

Mickey finally looked up at Sully, confused. "What the fuck are you going on about?"

Sully ticked his chin at something behind Mickey and when he turned around, he couldn't even believe it.

_Ian_.

Just like that, Mickey dropped the cord. He and Sully stared at Ian, not believing what they were seeing. Just like the time they reunited in Washington DC, it was as if Ian could feel that he was under scrutiny. He looked up, directly at Mickey, and stopped in his tracks. He had been talking to an older gentleman, maybe in his 50s, who followed Ian's gaze. Mickey watched as the man smiled knowingly and pushed Ian in his direction.

It didn't matter how much or how little time passed. When Mickey saw Ian, he felt like he had never left. He felt his heart swell and all he wanted to do was wrap Ian in his arms, smell that combination of soap and musk and Ian that always intoxicated him, and never let go. But he also couldn't bear the thought of Ian breaking his heart again. He quickly picked up the cord from the floor, busying his hands before they could reach out and reclaim what had always been theirs.

Ian approached hesitantly. “Mick, I can’t believe you’re here. This is like DC all over again.”

Mickey couldn’t help but agree. “Yea, I guess it is. How are you?”

“I’m… okay.” Ian smiled sadly.

Mickey saw that Ian was looking much better than he had before they split up. His eyes were clear, he didn’t seem to be on anything. Mickey felt immediate relief. “You look good.”

Ian smiled again, but it was happier this time, almost more… hopeful. “So do you, MIck.”

They stood there awkwardly, neither seeming to know what to say. After a moment, it occurred to Mickey that he was still supposed to be working. He held up his hands and showed Ian the cord. “I gotta finish breaking down the stage. It was nice seeing you, Ian.”

“Wait,” Ian interjected, his voice pained. “Mick, can we talk?”

He sighed. “Ian, I’m working.”

“I’ll wait,” he replied desperately. “Look, Mick… I know you don’t owe me anything, and I owe you so much. Please, just hear me out.”

Mickey wanted to, he really did. He wanted to talk, or yell, or fight. But as soon as they left here, they were getting on the tour buses and heading to Philadelphia. “Ian, I don’t have time, we’re getting on the road right after this.”

“I’ll cover for you!” Sully interjected. They both turned to look at him, having forgotten he was there the entire time. “Mick, as long as you make it to Philly tomorrow before it’s time to set up, they won’t give a shit. I’ll cover for why you’re not on the bus.”

He was equal parts grateful and annoyed for Sully’s assistance. Before he could say or do anything, Sully was taking the cord out of his hands and moving away. “ _Go_ , before anyone notices that you’re gone.”

Acting on instinct, Mickey was quick to move out of the arena, Ian hot on his heels. When they were outside, Mickey stopped to take a look around and see if there was anywhere to go in sight. It was late, and their best bet would be one of the 24 hour diners that peppered the city. It was quiet out, the crowd having dissipated after the show. Feeling how alone he was with Ian for the first time, Mickey found himself staring down at his feet, not knowing what to do.

Ian spoke softly. “I’m on my meds. I’ve been taking care of myself.”

Mickey felt a rush of relief, followed by an undercurrent of anger. If Ian could have just fucking done that in the first place, they wouldn’t even be in this situation right now. “Do you think that makes up for everything that happened?” He heard the bite in his own voice and felt guilty, but he refused to apologize for it.

“No Mick,” Ian sighed. “I don’t think it makes up for anything. I’m so sorry. I know that doesn’t change anything, but it’s true. I didn’t… I didn’t want to break up with you.”

“Then why the _fuck_ did you?” Mickey lashed out. He finally looked up and met Ian’s stare, angry. If Ian hadn’t wanted to break up with him, what was the fucking point of all of this?

Ian ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, Mick, I just wasn’t ready to deal with my situation. But I knew there _was_ a situation, you know? And I didn’t want you to have to deal with it, and I didn’t want you to try to change me or make me face it. I know now how misguided that was.”

“I never asked you to be someone you’re not, Ian. I just wanted you to take care of yourself.” Mickey whispered.

“I know,” Ian replied. “I get it now. I do. I’m sorry that I hurt you, Mick. You didn’t deserve that. I tried to do the right thing because I loved you… I still love you. I just went about it all wrong.”

The thing of it all was that, despite everything that had happened, Mickey had never stopped loving Ian. He didn’t think about him every day, it had been too long for that. But it was always somewhere under the surface. He hadn’t tried to move on, or even do more than a casual hookup every once in awhile in a moment of need. But it was never the same. He didn’t know if Ian was truly the right person for him, if they could ever make it work, but Mickey knew that Ian was the only person he wanted. He wanted to be angry at Ian, but he just couldn't seem to do it. He slowly reached behind his back and took his wallet out of his back pocket. He opened it and shuffled through until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out the Halloween picture, now a little dog eared from wear and tear, and held it out for Ian to see.

“That was a great night,” Mickey mused, his finger tracing the edge of the picture. “I wanted to make sure I had a reminder of the good that we had. The fun and the laughs. We had our bad moments, especially there at the end for a while, but usually it really was good.”

Ian had tears welled in the corner of his eyes as he reached into his own pocket and withdrew the butterfly knife. “I carry this every day and I think of you, Mick.”

He stepped forward tentatively and slid the knife into Mickey’s pocket. He moved to step back but Mickey caught his wrist and looked up at him. They were so close that their noses brushed against each other, and Mickey knew that he only had a split second to back off and change his mind. But it really wasn’t a choice for him; he knew what his heart wanted. He leaned in the last little inch and pressed his lips on Ian’s. It was a gentle kiss, tentative, needing reassurance. A small sigh escaped his lips. He felt like he was home. Wherever Ian was, that was home. Ian made no effort to intensify it, but he did rest his free hand on the back of Mickey’s neck, keeping him there.

Mickey felt dampness on his cheek and thought it was his own tears, but it was Ian’s. He pulled back and gently wiped them off Ian’s face with his thumbs.

Ian shook his head. “Mick, I never thought I’d see you again. We have so much to talk about.”

“I know,” Mickey agreed. “But I only have a night, and then I have to head to Philly. And I don’t want to waste my one night talking. I do have one question though."

"Shoot," Ian replied.

Mickey wasn't sure if it was his business, but if he was going to spend any time with Ian, he had to ask. "Who was that old guy you were with?"

Ian laughed. "You didn't recognize him? That was Dr. Schwartz. His husband couldn't make it tonight, so he asked me if I wanted the extra ticket. I have to remember to thank him for that."

Mickey chuckled and fisted his hand into Ian’s shirt, pulling him in and pushing their lips together again. This time, when Ian’s lips parted just the littlest bit, Mickey slid his tongue into Ian’s mouth. The familiarity of it all was intoxicating. He let go of Ian’s shirt and slid his hand up, carding it through Ian’s hair, which wasn’t as long as it used to be. It was blown out and fell to about his shoulders. Mickey realized that Ian had the same hairstyle as Barry Gibb. He didn’t hate it.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Mickey mumbled against Ian’s lips.

  


_ Ian – The Eagles – One Of These Nights _

 

Ian wondered if it was crazy to think that he and Mickey could just fall together again like they had never fallen apart.

As they walked to his apartment, Ian kept stealing glances at Mickey. Surely it meant something that he and Mickey seemed to always find their way back to each other; it couldn’t just be happenstance or serendipity. Ian didn’t really care what it was called, he was just grateful it existed. It was kind of crazy; as he looked at Mickey, there was something so settled about him. Like he had finally found himself. It was nice to see, actually. When they were younger, so much of their situation was about secrets and hiding, and though they had enjoyed a good year or two before things went to hell, it still wasn’t without its challenges. Terry’s death, Ian’s denial of his diagnosis, his behavior leading up to it… Ian questioned if this rendezvous wasn’t possibly a bad idea, but he wouldn’t stop it. He was selfish that way, he knew.

Ian had moved to the East Village, still in the city and close enough to his friends and his job, but crosstown enough that making plans was an effort. It helped him to stay out of trouble and avoid the temptations of his old scene. Quitting bartending and getting a steady job had helped with that too. One of the patrons at his old bar had hooked him up with an office job, and though Ian found it to be pretty boring, he was just glad for a steady check and quiet evenings.

It had taken Ian the better part of a year to get himself together. While his friends had tried to be supportive and understanding, the situation had put a strain on all of Ian’s relationships. When he did finally have himself stabilized, he had figured it would be easier to mend those fences with a bit of distance and space, and he had been right. They were all fine now, they were just happy to have their friend taking care of himself. Ian had originally butted heads with Dr. Schwartz, but when he finally came to terms with the idea that he had to fix his life, that was the only doctor he bothered to call. He was still going to him for periodic check ups and such. They had made a lot of progress in their interactions.

So much had happened since he and Mickey broke up. There was really so much that Ian wanted to tell him, needed to tell him. While he knew the last thing Mickey wanted was to talk, Ian knew it was really what they needed. By the time they had made it to his building and he showed Mickey around his modest one bedroom apartment, he knew that he had to redirect things back to talking. He grabbed a beer from his refrigerator and offered it to Mickey, leading him into the living room and sitting down. When Mickey tried to initiate things, Ian held him off.

“God, as much as I want this, I think we should talk first. There are really so many things I need to tell you.” Ian said.

Mickey relented and dropped down onto the couch, facing him. “Alright, let’s hear it then.”

Ian scrubbed his hand over his face, buying an extra moment to gather his thoughts. “Fuck, where do I even start?” He sighed. “First, I just want to say I’m sorry. I regret so much about how things happened, and I know that you were just worried and trying to look out for me. I see that now. I was so shitty to you and you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s fine,” Mickey said, looking down at his feet.

“No,” Ian emphasized. “It’s not fine. I thought I was doing you a favor, ending things. If I could change it, I would. It was totally misguided, but I thought I was doing it for the right reasons.”

“I know,” MIckey nodded.

Ian could feel his emotions bubbling up gently. His eyes got misty and he looked at Mickey, trying to convey how much he cared. “I love you. And I miss you like crazy. Sometimes it was so hard to even think about because I know _I did that_. I ended it, I pushed you away, and I can’t make up for that.”

Mickey looked at him earnestly and said, “Ian, you don’t always have to… make up for something. You just move on. Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

He reached across and pulled Ian closer to him, resting their foreheads together.

“I love you too, Ian.”

\----------

They stayed up half the night talking, filling each other in on everything in their lives since they had parted. Mickey told Ian all about his return to Chicago, filled him in on the news that Sully and Mandy had gotten together, bragged about Heather. He told Ian how he had managed to repair his relationships with Colin and Iggy, but that Joey and Jamie seemed to be lost causes. He told Ian about how he got into doing stage crew work, what it was like to be on tour. Ian filled Mickey in on his struggles with coming to terms with his manic depression, breaking and repairing his friendships, leaving the party scene behind him and getting things sorted out. He was very candid about his journey, and Mickey got emotional thinking about Ian dealing with all of that, effectively on his own.

Eventually the night started to blend into morning, a hint of the sun’s first light attempting to peek through the curtains. They were both raw, emotionally drained, and they fell asleep on Ian’s couch wrapped up in each other. Ian woke up first, refusing to move as he watched Mickey sleep. He knew once they got up and faced a new day, this insular little bubble would burst and Mickey would be gone again, off first to Philadelphia and then parts unknown. Ian wanted to pretend, for just a little longer, that they were the only two people in the world.

Mickey’s eyes opened, and Ian lost himself for a moment in that deep blue. Mickey smiled and leaned forward, kissing him softly. _Fuck, why does this have to end_? Mickey looked around until he located a clock, taking note of the time.

“I probably gotta get moving soon if I’m going to make it to Philly unnoticed.” He observed.

Ian felt a twinge in his chest. It was too soon. “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered.

Mickey stroked his hair gently. “I know man, I don’t wanna go either. But I gotta.”

Ian knew he did, and he knew he had no place to try to make him stay. He couldn’t expect Mickey to drop his life again. But _fuck_ , did he want him to stay. He kissed Mickey again with urgency, needing to feel his lips. Mickey pulled him closer and deepened the kiss, moving his hips and creating friction between them. Ian breathed heavier as he shifted himself and wound up between Mickey’s legs, holding himself up over Mickey’s body. He ground his own hips down, feeling his straining erection rub against Mickey’s crotch through their pants. They had fallen asleep fully clothed, which seemed very inconvenient to Ian at that moment.

He grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head, dropping the shirt and moving immediately to his belt buckle. He undid the belt and his button and zipper and pushed his jeans and underwear down around his knees. As Ian was doing this, Mickey pulled his own shirt off and started working on his pants. Once he had them open, Ian unceremoniously pulled Mickey’s legs up to the ceiling and yanked his pants off in one swift motion. He laid himself back down and felt the touch of Mickey’s skin on his own. Ian had missed this, and so had Mickey if his moaning was any indication.

Ian untangled himself from Mickey’s limbs just long enough to get a condom and lube out of a nearby drawer, opening the lube and spreading some over his fingers. He reached between them and teased a finger over Mickey’s entrance, slowly inserting it into him. Ian wanted him so badly, but he was determined to take his time and commit every moment, every sensation to memory, not knowing what would happen after Mickey left. He eased in a second digit, flexing and scissoring them to help prepare Mickey for what was coming. By the time he had worked in a third finger, Ian knew that Mickey was getting impatient.

Finally, Ian grabbed the condom, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth and unrolling the rubber over his shaft. He squirted more lube onto himself and worked it up and down, coating the condom. He kept eye contact with Mickey as he aligned himself, Mickey’s legs hitched up around his waist to help get the right position. Ian kept their gazes locked together as he slowly pushed inside, giving Mickey time to ease into it. He pulled back and pushed in again gently, gaining a little more entry with each motion. When he bottomed out, they stayed still for a moment, both of them appreciating the feel of each other.

Ian started to move his hips, his thrusts slow but deliberate. Mickey’s hands were on his back, fingers digging in for purchase as he bucked his own hips in time with the rhythm they had set. Ian shifted his position and he knew he had hit Mickey’s sweet spot when he gasped and clenched involuntarily around Ian’s cock. He moved faster then, feeling his own arousal building as Mickey moaned and writhed beneath him. The sweat slicked skin of their torsos glided together with every move. Ian leaned down and peppered kisses along Mickey’s jaw until he reached his lips, the two of them coming together in a sloppy kiss of tongues and teeth, biting and licking, panting quick and hot in each other’s space.

It may have been some time since they had been together, but Ian still knew all of Mickey’s tells, and he knew when Mickey was getting close to his climax. Ian reached between them, his grip firm on Mickey’s cock as he began to stroke him in time with his own movements. Mickey scrabbled to cling onto Ian’s back again as his orgasm burst out of him with a shout. He tightened around Ian’s cock and with a few more short pumps, Ian’s own orgasm followed. He laid his body gently over Mickey, catching his breath as they came down together. Ian felt Mickey’s fingers run through his damp hair, sweeping it back from his face. He leaned into the touch, relishing the extra affection that he had gone without for so long.

Considering that Mickey was on a very limited schedule, they pushed their luck and laid there together for quite some time until finally he had patted Ian’s back to let him up. Mickey had moved into the bathroom and taken a quick shower before throwing on his same clothes from the night before. Ian watched him sullenly as he fixed himself up to leave. Finally, there was no more avoiding it and Ian walked Mickey to the door.

“I don’t want you to go,” he told Mickey. He knew it was selfish, but he felt like he just finally had Mickey back in his life and it wasn’t fair that he was departing so soon.

Mickey pulled him closer and leaned his forehead against Ian’s. “I know,” he replied. “I don’t wanna leave either, but I have to.”

Ian suddenly felt insecure. He knew that he couldn’t just push Mickey to fall right back into it with him; that wasn’t fair. But he couldn’t fathom not seeing Mickey again until some undetermined time. It was just too much.

“When can I see you again?” Ian asked.

“We have a gap in the tour schedule,” Mickey told him. “It’s in like three, four weeks or so. Runs for about two weeks. I’ll come back then for at _least_ a few days.”

_Three to four weeks… I can do that_.

Ian nodded and pressed his lips to Mickey’s. “We’ll make it work.”

Mickey smiled softly. “We always do.”

 

**OCTOBER**

 

_Ian – Pink Floyd – Wish You Were Here_

 

For five months, things had been going well with Ian and Mickey.

Mickey had been on tour for the entire duration of their renewed relationship, coming in for visits when his schedule had long enough gaps to accommodate it. Ian hoped that things weren’t going so well purely because of the distance. He knew that they had to take things to a new level, keep progressing, work with the momentum they had finally built up again after all these years. He just didn’t know how the hell he was going to talk to Mickey about what he had in mind.

Most nights after a show, Mickey would call Ian and they would talk for a little while before going to bed. Ian would sit on the floor in the hallway, mindful of his nosy neighbors as he and Mickey rehashed their days. The long distance charges were a bitch, but considering that Mickey lived on the road and had little overhead, they made it work. The night that Ian finally chose to broach the subject was one of those late nights.

“Where are you guys tonight?” Ian asked.

Mickey yawned loudly in Ian’s ear before he answered. “Rhode Island. Boston tomorrow and then we’re moving west.”

Ian cleared his throat, his nerves getting the best of him. “Mick, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He could hear Mickey click his tongue through the phone line. “Okay… What’s goin' on?”

“Well, the tour is done in less than two weeks. And I was thinking… I was thinking you should just move in with me again when it’s over.”

The silence was almost painful. Ian refused to break it first, waiting Mickey out. Finally, Mickey spoke. “Ian, I’m not saying no-“

“Forget it, Mick. It’s fine.”

“Ian, shut up and listen for a minute. _I’m not saying no_. I’m just asking, do you think we’re ready for that? We’ve only been back together for, what, five months or so?"

Ian huffed a sigh in frustration. The fact that Mickey wasn't jumping at the opportunity stung, but Ian couldn't blame him. “I don’t think there’s a perfect time or perfect amount of time for something like this. But I think we need to take the next steps. We have to do what we’ve never managed to do in all these years. Progress like couples do. That’s what you do, Mick. I mean, we are a couple, right?”

Mickey’s response was quiet but firm. “Of course we are.”

He could hear Mickey stifle a yawn on the other end and he looked up at the clock. It was almost 2am, and Ian felt bad. He wasn’t trying to argue with Mickey in the middle of the night, he really wasn’t. But he wanted something to look forward to. He _needed_ something to look forward to.

Mickey spoke up finally. “Ian, can I at least think about it? It's a big step. Can we talk about it when the tour finally wraps up? It’s only twelve more days.”

Ian knew that at least for tonight, Mickey was done with the topic. “Fine. Get some rest, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

 

**THIRTEEN DAYS LATER**

 

With the tour over, finishing just the night before, the next order of business was for Mickey to come and visit. He was still based out of Chicago and had promised that after going home, he would set up a trip to come to New York. Ian hoped that would be the chance for them to finally discuss moving in together.

Ian didn’t expect to hear from Mickey for a day or two. He had been warned by Mandy that after a tour, Mickey was usually dead to the world for at least that long. He went about his day, running some errands and fitting in time for a run before coming home to make himself some dinner. He was just about to sit down to eat when he heard knocking. He went to the door and opened it and was surprised to find Mickey on the other side with a large suitcase and a duffel bag over his shoulder.

Ian stood there for a moment, not making any move toward his boyfriend. “Mick, what are you doing here?”

Mickey smirked, a glimmer of amusement in his eye. “What do you mean? I live here.”

Ian felt the air rush out of him and his response was nothing more than a whisper. “Really?”

Mickey reached up and gently cupped his hand on Ian’s face, using his thumb to stroke Ian’s cheek. “Really.”

Mickey let the bag slip from his shoulder and land on the floor. In one swift move, he stepped into Ian’s space, wrapping Ian in his arms. Ian breathed him in and held him close. They stayed there in the doorway like that for a minute until Ian finally broke the embrace to pull Mickey inside. He grabbed one of the bags and left the other for Mickey to bring. They moved into the bedroom and Ian temporarily forgot about his dinner while he freed space in the closet and the dresser for Mickey’s things.

Eventually, Ian remembered that he had been about to eat and realized he didn’t have enough food for both of them. He ordered Chinese food and they ate sitting close together on the couch, crowding in each other’s space, sticking forks in each other’s takeout containers and knocking knees. Ian felt like a school boy on a date. He loved it.

When they finished eating, they began making up for their many months apart. They didn’t leave the apartment for three days.

  


**EPILOGUE**

**NEW YEAR’S EVE, 1979**

 

_ Pink Floyd - Comfortably Numb _

 

If Ian did a retrospective of the 1970s, ringing in each year would have had a very different meaning from the beginning until now. It had been a hell of a decade. The early 70’s would have probably consisted of partying a little too hard and going home with the pick of the night. Short term fun with no depth. The mid 70’s, after he and Mickey had reunited, were jubilant with the two really wanting to celebrate being together, really together, for the first time. Since Mickey had reentered Ian’s life for good, Ian had put those hard partying days behind him. It had been over four and a half years, and while it wasn’t perfect, it was working and it was good. So good.

Ian had picked up some dinner from the nearby diner and was looking forward to a quiet night at home. Watching Dick Clark and the ball drop on TV, and hopefully getting to talk to Mickey after midnight if he was done breaking down that night’s concert and could get through on the phone. The lines were always jammed on New Year’s.

Ian set out his dinner and put on his new favorite record. It had come out about a month before and it spoke to him very profoundly. He skimmed over the newspaper while he ate. Petra, who owned the diner with her husband Christos, always made sure to give him very generous portions, claiming he needed to fatten up, and there were always leftovers.

After Ian had eaten his fill, he put the rest of the food away and grabbed a beer, making his way to the living room. He fiddled with the channel knob on the TV until he found Dick Clark and settled down on the couch. He watched the pomp and circumstance happening just a short way uptown from his apartment in Times Square, and he briefly felt some nostalgia for when he had convinced Mickey to go on New Year’s Eve 1976. That had been a great night. But it wouldn’t be as fun going alone. He could have suggested it to Mandy and Sully now that they had moved east and were living in Brooklyn, but having one young child and another on the way usually kept them at home.

After a while, his medicine and the beers started to mingle together in his system and he felt drowsy. He looked over at the clock and realized it was almost 11:15. He figured he could make it just a little longer, really wanting to hear Mickey’s voice on the other end of the line. One good thing was that Mickey had gotten them off the party line and they had their own telephone. They were the only ones in their building. Mickey demanded it after a particularly bad episode of Ian’s in 1977 that he, thankfully, had been home for.

Ian got off the couch and put on some water to make a cup of instant coffee. He knew the caffeine sometimes got him too buzzed when he drank it at night, but he wanted just a little to get him through the next hour or two. When the water was nice and hot, he prepared his mug and settled back in, sitting near the phone so he could grab it as soon as it rang.

Although they were on the third floor of their walk up building, the walls were paper thin and they could hear the comings and goings of people all the way down in the lobby. So when Ian heard the entrance door slam back and heavy footsteps on the stairs, he assumed it was the O’Reilly kid from the 4th floor as usual. Ian felt himself scowl a little. The kid was a troublemaker, and Ian didn’t care for him, or the fact that he had no concept of noise. Then when he heard noises at the door of his apartment, he thought someone was breaking in.

He jumped off the couch and grabbed his trusty old butterfly knife. He flicked his wrist to expose the blade and stepped back, waiting, ready to jump at whoever came through the door. Luckily he looked before he swung, because when the door flung open, it was Mickey.

“Jesus, Mick! You scared the hell out of me! I thought someone was breaking in!”

Mickey spun his head back and forth, trying to locate the wall clock. “Did I make it? It is before midnight?!”

Ian checked the time as he flicked the knife back to its closed position and returned it to the table. “It’s 11:40. Mickey, what are you even doing here? You’re supposed to be on your way to Atlanta for a show.”

Mickey took Ian’s face gently between his hands and smiled. “I quit. I’m done being on the road, Ian.”

Ian reached up slowly, putting his hands over Mickey’s. “What? But Mick, what are we going to do? We can’t afford this place just on my pay alone!”

“Sully has an in with the stagehands at MSG, his cousin works there or some shit. He’s going to try to get me in with them so that instead of traveling as part of a tour, I would work there for any shows that come through there. Or he said he could probably get me on his crew in Brooklyn, he’s the construction foreman now, the job is pretty much mine if I want it. It’s over Ian, I’m done with the road.”

Ian tried to respond, but he suddenly found that the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he nodded and leaned his forehead on Mickey’s. Mickey moved his hands down to Ian’s waist and pulled him in close, hugging Ian tightly and pressing his nose into Ian’s shoulder.

Mickey grabbed the belt loops of Ian’s jeans and maneuvered him toward the couch. He pushed Ian gently to sit down and he started getting undressed. Ian quickly pulled his own clothes off and Mickey climbed in his lap. He pressed his lips against Ian’s, licking at them to gain entry. They slowly kissed and ground each other until Mickey broke the kiss and whispered in Ian’s ear.

“I want you to get in me.”

Ian leaned over to the side table and yanked the drawer out to get lube and a condom. He felt Mickey’s tongue, warm and wet as he licked and bit a mark into Ian’s neck. Ian worked some of the lube onto two of his fingers and reached between them, pushing them slowly into Mickey and eliciting some downright sinful sounding moans. Ian could feel his precome leaking out and made quick work of opening Mickey up. He managed to put on the condom and slick it up with some more lube before guiding himself into Mickey.

They started out slow, Ian wanting to give Mickey the chance to open up more and wanting to relish the feeling for himself. But Mickey quickly made it clear that he wanted to set a more punishing rhythm when he grabbed hold of the couch to brace himself and fucked himself down hard and fast on Ian’s cock. Ian gripped Mickey’s hips, helping him set the pace. When Ian saw him tiring out, he wrapped Mickey in his arms and flipped them over so Mickey was on his back on the couch.

He pounded into Mickey even harder and faster, and he knew when he hit Mickey’s sweet spot by the gasp that came out of him, followed by a low moan that Ian swore he felt in every nerve ending. He was close, so close, and he wanted to try to hold out a little longer but he didn’t think either of them would make it. He pounded hard into Mickey a few more times before he came with a shout. He collapsed down for a moment, catching his breath and feeling Mickey’s erection pressing hot into his stomach.

He pulled out of Mickey and moved himself back, taking Mickey into his mouth. Mickey’s fingers tangled in his hair as Ian moved up and down on Mickey’s shaft. Each time he moved up, Ian swirled his tongue around the head and a minute or two later, he tasted Mickey in his mouth. Mickey shuddered and his grip tightened in Ian’s hair for a moment as his orgasm rushed out of him.

Ian moved up and hovered over Mickey and they kissed, deep and slow. Mickey pulled him down so they were pressed together, wrapping his arms around Ian’s shoulders. They laid there for a while, and when Ian finally looked up at the TV, he realized they had missed the entire point of the evening.

“Shit, we missed the ball drop. It’s after midnight.”

Mickey traced his lips lightly along Ian’s jaw as he responded. “Happy New Year, Ian. 1980, can you believe it?”

Ian buried his face in Mickey’s neck. “Happy New Year.”

After the euphoria of their reunion wore off, Mickey realized he was starving. Ian dug his leftovers out of the refrigerator and warmed them up. They sat at their dinette table together, Ian watching Mickey with a smile.

“Mick?”

“Yea?”

“What made you decide to quit working on the road?”

Mickey took a bite and chewed while he thought about his answer. “Well, I started thinking about the new year, how we were coming up on a new decade, and I realized I spent the better part of this decade we left behind missing you. I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want this next decade to be different.”

Ian slid his chair closer to Mickey and kissed him.

\-----------

New Year’s morning and Ian was already awake when Mickey dragged himself out of bed. He stumbled first to the bathroom and then to the coffee pot. Ian had left a mug out for him and he filled it and went to join Ian on the couch. Mickey sat down and glanced at the cover of the book Ian was reading, _The Stand by Stephen King_ , and couldn’t help but tease him.

“I don’t see why you read his stuff. The world is a crazy enough place without all that sci-fi fantasy shit.”

Ian shrugged and waved the book. “I like his writing. The little, unnecessary details he puts in his stories.”

Mickey sipped at his coffee and asked, “How is Brian doing?”

Ian sighed. “Not well. He’s been in the hospital for a while now. He’s got pneumonia and it keeps getting worse. He started getting these sores or something too. They think it could be cancer. No one seems to know what’s going on. I’ll probably go see him later.”

Mickey nodded and ran his fingers through Ian’s hair. He could see the distressed look on Ian’s face as he worried over his friend. Mickey looked around the room for a distraction, a way to change the subject. Ian kept everything much neater than Mickey ever could. He noticed a record sleeve propped up by the record player and reached for it. He saw it was the new Pink Floyd album.

“This any good?”

Ian looked up and nodded emphatically. “I’ve barely stopped listening to it since I got it. At this rate, I’m going to wear it out and have to get a new one.”

Mickey nodded as he placed it back where he had found it. He noticed that Ian had stopped reading his book and was staring off into space. Mickey gently knocked on his forehead to get his attention.  
“Where’d you go?” He asked.  
“I was just thinking,” Ian replied. “You asked me once what it was like, the manic depression, versus taking my medicine. I couldn’t really give you a good answer then because I was still adjusting and I couldn’t put it into words. But I think this one song kind of says it. The medicated part. Not now really, but then.”

Ian got up and started playing the song. “Listen to the lyrics.” He sat back down and watched as Mickey listened to the song.

As Mickey took in the words, his mind drifted back to those dark moments before Ian was diagnosed, and then to their breakup. He had learned when they reconciled that it had taken Ian the better part of a year to come to terms with it all and to get himself sorted out. Sometimes, Mickey still blamed himself for that, believed that if he had just tried to stay and help instead of going back to Chicago, that maybe it would have happened sooner. But he had been assured time and again from Ian, from Claire and Carly, and even from Roger that it wouldn't have mattered. Ian hadn't been able to accept the diagnosis or any help until he was ready, and not a moment before.

Mickey listened to the lyrics and felt a pang in his chest. He thought about how hard it must have been for Ian to go through that alone, to be detached from everyone, to feel so blank when he was first trying to do something about it all. He was so grateful that Ian hadn't given up on getting himself better, that he had stuck with it until things leveled out. If he hadn't done that, gotten through it, they probably wouldn't be here.

“I hope I never made you feel numb like that,” Mickey told him thoughtfully.

Ian shook his head hard. “ _No_ , Mick. I feel everything with you.”

He reached over and grabbed Mickey's hand, pulling him across the couch until Mickey fell on top of him. He ran his fingers through Mickey's bed head, smoothing the hair back. Blue eyes met green, and Ian stretched up to kiss Mickey softly. With him, Ian felt everything…

 

And it all felt good.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me hanging out on [Tumblr](http://grumblesandmumbles.tumblr.com)!
> 
> I am eternally grateful for my beta Sophie (mapswindsor on Tumblr, wemightaswellbestrangers on AO3). She has been so patient and has been a great help in this process. A special thanks to Keliana (theunforgivngminute on Tumblr) for the artwork she made for my story. Also, a big shout out and thank you to Karen (palepinkgoat on Tumblr, pink_ink on AO3) for her insights on bipolar disorder and Ian's state of mind.


End file.
